


My Brother's Keeper

by tristesses



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Outbound Flight - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Canon, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-15 06:43:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16928406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tristesses/pseuds/tristesses
Summary: Nature, in its way, creates its own art, Thrawn had told Thrass once.Although I have yet to decipher its meaning. A half-smile.Someday.Leave it to Thrawn to think he could explain the language of the cosmos.





	My Brother's Keeper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shanlyrical](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanlyrical/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide, shanlyrical!
> 
> Also contains very, very mild xeno, not enough to tag but enough to mention here.

When Thrawn was on-planet, there were two places to find him, if he wasn't already attached to Thrass's side: in the ritual room, receiving a reprimand from Admiral Ar'alani or, at times, the head of the Defense Hierarchy herself; or in the ice caves near the surface, where one could catch a smeared glimpse of the stars and the galaxy arcing across the sky through the ice.

 _Nature, in its way, creates its own art_ , he had told Thrass once. _Although I have yet to decipher its meaning_. A half-smile. _Someday_.

Leave it to Thrawn to think he could explain the language of the cosmos.

It was not in the ice caves Thrass found him, though, proving once again that his brother was unpredictable even to his twin. No, Thrawn had retreated further underground, and away from people, to the caves where the hot springs ran thin and dirty, unappealing to the Chiss who would otherwise use them to bathe and socialize—the relaxed environment of the springs was one of the few places where the strict hierarchy of Chiss society blurred, the resource precious and holy enough to allow commoners to bathe cheek-by-jowl with the Aristocras.

But that was not the sort of mood Thrawn was in today.

Thrass squirmed his way through one of the cracks in the wall of the cave, scraping his cheek as he went—Thrawn was not smaller than him, but he was inexplicably better at making his way through the tunnels; he wouldn't have a scratch on him—and finally stepped out into the cavern, hot and humid. Thrawn had put out his torch and was illuminated only by the bioluminescent algae in the still pools of water scattered through the cave, a faint pink glow that turned his skin violet. Stripped out of his thermals and dressed only in his undergarment in deference to the heat, he did not move to look at Thrass; he might not have noticed Thrass come in at all, until he spoke.

"Syndic Mitth'ras'safis," he said, his voice light, but with a bitter scratch in his throat belying his frustration. "Come to scold me as well? I understand the Aristocra Premiere was not pleased with me."

"Aristocra Mitth'ond'wara did wish me to speak to you, yes," Thrass said cautiously. This was a mood he hadn't seen Thrawn in for a long time, since their adolescent years, before either of them had been accepted as merit adoptives: sullen and prone to snapping.

"Then speak."

Thrawn's back was turned away, tension radiating from him. Thrass took advantage of the moment to study him. The straightness of his spine, even when lounging, the column of his neck, the cap of blue-black hair he kept slicked back and short, as if adhering to uniform regulations would cancel out his flouting of other CEDF procedures. Underneath the curve of his skull sat a brain Thrass had never understood, and staring at him wasn't going to make that any more likely.

Thrass exhaled and ran his fingers through his own hair.

"Remember when we used to come here?" he asked. Thrawn stiffened; this was not the angle of attack he'd been anticipating. "We would sneak out of the creche and crawl through the tunnels, and the creche-masters would lose their minds because they could never find us."

"Our secret place," Thrawn whispered. "Yes. I remember."

Thrass approached him, sat down beside him, sighing a little as the scrapes and bumps he'd received in the tunnel caught up to him.

"I remember getting here being a lot easier," he said, and Thrawn gave him a sideways look.

"You haven't grown that much since we were adolescents," he said with a note of censure in his voice. "You should still fit."

"Maybe," Thrass conceded. "But I'm less limber, apparently."

"Join the Defense Force," Thrawn said, and there was that bitter note again—though no, it wasn't quite bitterness. Anger? "Their training regimen will get you into shape like nothing else can."

"What happened today?"

The words slipped out before Thrass could bite them back. He had planned to ease into the question, coax the answer from Thrawn with delicacy instead of blunt force. Thrawn glanced at him quickly, then looked back at the algae pools. His mouth curved in an unhappy line.

"They threatened to take my ship away," he said, and now Thrass could pinpoint that emotion: fear. It was so uncommon to hear from Thrawn, he hadn't recognized it at first. "My command. Break me down to lieutenant, if I don't follow Fleet doctrine."

Thrass waited for him to continue, and when he did not, Thrass reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder. There had been a point in time where he had not hesitated to show such physical affection, or more—but they had outgrown that. There were only so many peculiarities their twinship would excuse, and that was not one of them.

Thrawn tensed under his hand, and when had that become his habit?

"Thrawn," Thrass said, then shook him roughly by the shoulder and gathered him up into his arms.

"What are you doing?" Thrawn snapped, but he melted against Thrass and clutched him back.

"They won't listen," he hissed in Thrass' ear, his breath hot against Thrass's skin. "All this time, I've been attempting to persuade them to respond to threats before they can destroy us—to look beyond _peaceful watchfulness_." He spat the words like an insult. "I thought if my words wouldn't persuade them, then perhaps my actions would."

"Thrawn—"

"They would not have promoted me to commander if I did not achieve _results_ ," Thrawn said emphatically. "But they disapprove of my methods. And nothing I say will change their mind. They will not listen to reason."

"Did it ever occur to you that you might be wrong?"

Thrawn tilted his head up to meet Thrass's eyes. The crimson of his eyes was a darker hue than Thrass's, and so familiar.

"Do you?" he asked. "I admire your ambition, brother, truly I do. But does it ever occur to you that _you_ have backed the wrong racer in interfering with the CEDF—"

"Which I do to protect you—"

Thrawn flinched, but continued.

"—and that perhaps listening to me would be a better bet?"

"I have educated myself on military matters," Thrass said stiffly. "I may be a politician but I'm not ignorant. And no, I don't think you're right."

"Someday you will," Thrawn said.

They sat in silence for some moments before Thrawn said abruptly, "You're hurt."

Thrass blinked and touched the scrape on his face.

"Yes, a little," he said. "It's nothing."

"You should have said something. I have a medpatch right here."

"Always prepared," Thrass said with a faint smile. Thrawn arched an eyebrow at him, and retrieved the medpatch.

"Let me clean the wound," he said, opening a bottle of antiseptic fluid and pouring some out onto a piece of gauze. He crouched in front of Thrass and took his chin firmly in his hand, tilting his head to the side to more clearly see the scrape. "Thrass, there is dirt in this cut. It could scar."

"Scars are dashing."

The way Thrawn was touching him, with intent and care, was making Thrass quiver internally.

"Thrawn," he said finally, as his brother was patting the medpatch into place on his cheek. "Do you remember what else would happen in this cavern, when we were younger?"

Thrawn gave him a patient look, and Thrass realized he'd missed the opening gambit altogether.

"Yes, brother," Thrawn said. "I do."

He was still holding Thrass' chin, and, very carefully, drew him closer, fitting his mouth against Thrass's lips. It had been years, but it felt natural, like they were sliding into their rightful places at last.

They pulled apart and paused a moment, their breath intermingling, Thrawn watchful. Thrass took a deep breath, and pulled his brother into his lap.

 _Wrong, wrong, wrong_ , a bell tolled in his head, but Thrass disregarded it. He and Thrawn had always been outside the norm anyway. He kissed Thrawn again and this time parted his lips with his tongue. Thrawn made an incoherent noise and pressed closer against him, and Thrass wondered, with a sudden sharp ache in his chest, if Thrawn had had the opportunity to do this with anyone else. Thrass had taken lovers in the past few years, but Thrawn—never so much as a rumor, and Thrass kept his finger on the pulse of society gossip, particularly when it concerned his brother—

He ran his fingers along Thrawn's ribs, feeling the taut muscle there, and slid his hands around to the back of his undergarment, where the clingzip was. Thrass liked to tease; he undid the clingzip just a little, just enough to bare the nape of Thrawn's neck and the slightest hint of clavicle,  then gripped his hair and pulled his head to the side so he could lick and suck along the exposed skin.

Thrawn tilted his head back to allow Thrass access and sighed with pleasure, arching his back as Thrass undid the clingzip further and found bare skin underneath the insulated fabric, stroking it with the pads of his fingers. Thrawn groaned and ground his hips against Thrass, his erection hard and pressing against Thrass's stomach, his buttocks resting right over Thrass's cock. Thrass's pulse raced; it seemed suddenly imperative to get Thrawn out of his undergarment as quickly as possible. He made himself be patient, undoing the rest of the clingzip and peeling away the fabric gently.

"So delicate," Thrawn murmured. "I can take rougher treatment, you know."

"Believe me," Thrass said wryly, thinking on their adolescent escapades, "I know."

"You need to get out of those clothes, brother."

"You first."

Easy sibling bickering, albeit much different than most, given context.

"Very well." Thrawn stood, then, and Thrass leaned back on his elbows to take in the view. It was almost eerie, seeing Thrawn lit up by nothing but the glow of the algae, but the way the light danced off the planes of his stomach and the erect, glistening length of his cock made the effect erotic instead.

Thrawn stroked himself, watching Thrass intently while he stripped out of his own clothes. Being pinned under Thrawn's gaze was almost intimidating—Thrass was not surprised his subordinates were known to be some of the most loyal and obedient members of the CEDF—and very much arousing.

"Come here," Thrass ordered, and Thrawn obeyed.

It was not always so, with them—there had always been a give-and-take, a certain fluidity to the roles they took on with each liaison. But today, Thrass was feeling protective, and Thrawn was feeling unwanted, and there was really only one way this could play out.

He knelt before Thrawn and took his cock in his mouth, curving his hand around his buttocks to bring him closer, the salty-sweet taste of his brother's fluids pulsing into his mouth thick on his tongue. He took a measure of pride in his ability to do this, to take a cock to the hilt and not gag, but Thrawn rather tested his limits.

He _did_ gag when Thrawn's hips jerked and forced himself further down his throat, but did not let him pull away.

Thrass held Thrawn still as he worked his cock with tongue, lips, and throat, his fingers digging deep into Thrawn's hips. Thrawn's hands were wound tight in his hair, and he was breathing in deep, ragged gasps, the whine of a moan on each exhale.

Thrass made an incoherent hum of approval that made Thrawn twitch, then pulled away and glanced up. Thrawn was staring down at him, a little wild-eyed, entirely less put-together than he ever allowed himself to appear in public.

"You've improved at that," Thrawn said.

"I've practiced," Thrass replied hoarsely, and Thrawn's eyes glinted. Jealousy? That was sweet. "Now come here."

He sprawled back against his pile of clothes, where it would be at least slightly more comfortable to lie down, and Thrawn followed.

"Like this," he said, turning his back to Thrass and straddling his knees. "This is how I want it."

"Very well," Thrass murmured, and looped his arm around Thrawn's stomach, his other hand positioning his cock to press against Thrawn's entrance.

The fluids his cock had been leaking while he had been sucking on Thrawn's was more than enough to ease passage inside his brother, and they both moaned as Thrawn sank down on his cock. Thrawn trembled all over, once, then Thrass began to thrust inside him, and Thrawn made the most beautiful noise Thrass had ever heard.

 _No other lover could compare to this_ , Thrass thought.

Not to be outdone, Thrawn planted his knees on the ground and began to ride Thrass in earnest, matching his rhythm, and Thrass's eyes fluttered shut, his head lolling back as shivers of pleasure overtook his body.

Their climaxes came quickly, driven by need and, on Thrawn's part, lack of release for so long. Thrass felt him shudder hard, and Thrawn clapped his hand over his mouth to prevent his cry; Thrass grabbed his arm and yanked it down so he could hear the sound of Thrawn's orgasm.

Then there was some brief confusion as they both decided what to do next—"Like this," Thrawn ultimately said, and lay face-down with Thrass on top of him, Thrass bracing his arms against Thrawn's side and thrusting into him with a steady rhythm, listening to the small noises of pleasure Thrawn was making.

He bit Thrawn's shoulder hard when he came, a mark no one would see, one that only he and Thrawn would know was there.

When they were done, they lay together on the ground of the cave. Rocky, but Thrawn was used to uncomfortable conditions, and Thrass had a high tolerance of such things—he hadn't always been a pampered politician, after all.

Thrass turned his head to watch Thrawn, who was staring distantly at the ceiling, his mind already ticking away, even in the post-orgasmic haze. Or perhaps it had never stopped—Thrass couldn't say for sure.

All he knew was that, for this crystalline moment in time, he would do anything— _anything_ —for his brother.


End file.
